Change of Plans
by grey-zebra
Summary: Haruka had everything planned out. Work was going well, and he would propose in a month after returning from his long trip. Makoto—Haruka's best friend, took it upon himself to check up on Mizuki often. Mizuki was kind and gentle and just as gorgeous as he remembered. Falling in love was definitely not part of the plan.


**Oh boy, I hope I don't screw this up. Thanks to Into the Water's success I've decided to start part two. It'll include most of the stuff I haven't tried out in the first one, like dates and such. Winter Elvish Rose, you've got your Makoto love story! I had to make it about Makoto, but then I thought... why not fuse it together? So this is the result. There will be suffering, oooh, so much suffering in the ten years that passed. Why I started writing a heart-breaking love triangle involving two best friends is beyond me. Enjoy, and please review on anything you happen to like or dislike! **

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When Mizuki's mother left for Italy to be with family—at least for a while, she faked a smile and accompanied her to the airport. The day after her boyfriend Haruka left for his trip lasting over a month, Mizuki pretended she didn't mind the absence of his presence.

She did what she had to. No complaints. No excuses.

But this… This was harder. Much harder. So hard that she'd put it off. So hard that she wasn't sure she could actually do it. But her brother prodded her. "We shouldn't leave him waiting any longer, Mizuki-nee."

As usual, her brother's words spurred her into action. This time, she didn't stop until she stood by the grave site. She studied it with an odd combination of regret and relief. It was in a good spot, in the shadow of a cherry blossom tree. The place emanated peace. She could almost feel her father standing beside her, his hand on her shoulder, a soft smile on his face as he thanked them for coming.

"Hi, Dad. Sorry it took so long for me to visit. Things have been busy at work and…"

"At least be honest," Daichi scolded her. She cringed. His eyes on hers held them fixed that they could not look away from his. "She was angry at you for leaving, Dad. Hell, she's _still_ angry. But we love you, Dad. And we miss you."

A faint breeze encircled them and Mizuki closed her eyes. They'd fought before he died. Fought because she wanted to pursue a career in music and he hadn't approved. She hadn't understood why. Taking over the family business was the most logical explanation she came up with. Not like it mattered now, anyway. They were forced to sell the place, after all.

Crouching, Daichi placed the flowers he'd brought against the tombstone. When they walked away, Mizuki was bleakly aware that she hadn't felt that gentle breeze again.

When she spied her little brother carrying a pile of bills and junk mail into the house, Mizuki intentionally stared long enough for him to acknowledge her. "Love letters? Aren't you the popular one."

Daichi's lips pulled back in a mock smile. "Who sends love letters nowadays? Never heard of e-mail? You know, sending and receiving messages electronically over a computer network? You're so old-fashioned, Mizuki-nee."

Mizuki rolled her eyes. She'd been expecting such a cold response.

"You're an idiot," said Mizuki, sighing, as she looked at her handsome, broad shouldered brother with his gorgeous blue eyes and semi-long wavy hair, who busily scanned the envelopes for anything interesting. His character had changed over the years, especially since their father's passing. From being a happy and light-hearted little boy, he grew into a gloomy and thoughtful young man.

"It's just weird you don't have a girlfriend at your age. I bet girls fantasize about you on a daily basis, so it's not exactly hard to find someone."

Catching her words, he blushed and turned away, offended and irritated at her. And there he returned, the small, insecure child he once was. "_Jesus_," he breathed. "At least _try_ and act like a big sister."

She froze all of a sudden. Almost immediately, Daichi apologized. But she wasn't looking at him anymore. It was the invitation she spied amid the envelopes he held onto that got her attention.

Iwatobi High School was set to celebrate its ten-year reunion.

Mizuki had fond memories of her high school. She'd known Haruka and Makoto as simple classmates, but they'd never been more than that… until Haruka found out about her phobia and, despite being polar opposites of one another, they ended up dating.

"You're scowling," Daichi said, loud and clear. Well, it couldn't be helped. She won't attend without Haruka. Without a doubt in her mind Mizuki took a hold of the invitation, balled it up in a wad and send it whizzing into the trash can.

"Don't be stupid," Daichi chided her, fishing the invitation out the trash with a face of disgust. She made her way to the freezer for some chocolate chip ice cream, but Daichi cut her off. He was telling her to grow up. This paired with the way he stared down at her small stature—curse his ridiculous height—she felt seventeen all over again.

"You can't decide…" She stopped. She really needed to start on dinner. She bit off her words and cut around him, heading for the kitchen.

Tonight's dinner selection was macaroni and cheese with not one, but four kinds of cheese and enough butter and calories that Mizuki swore her clothes fit tighter just reading the ingredients. Daichi went out with his close friend, Kotarõ, so it was just her tonight. Even so, it didn't keep her from making the mac and cheese and eating half of the six servings.

The wine she poured for herself was an afterthought. She'd been saving the pricey bottle for a special occasion—Haruka's return. Three glasses later, she didn't care.

Mizuki set the wine aside and went to her stereo. Music. That's what she needed now. Something with a wicked jazzy beat. Something she could dance to with reckless abandon. She chose… Natalia Kills.

As one dark song after another filled Mizuki's small house, her willpower wilted like the old cat currently lazing on the couch. Muttering curses at herself, she snatched the invitation from the kitchen counter, the wrinkles smoothed out by brother dearest. Just then, her telephone rang. It was Makoto.

"Hi, Mizuki. What's up?" Anyone else—her co-workers at the bar, for instance—and Mizuki would have come up with some elaborate reason why she was home alone on the official start of the weekend. Since it was Makoto, she confessed, "Drinking wine, feeling sorry for myself and listening to violent love songs."

"No ice cream?" How well he knew her. The chocolate chip ice cream was next on her list. "Not yet."

"Want me to come over?" he asked. Definitely. They always had a good time together, whether it involved going out or just hanging out. Still, his question surprised her. Wasn't he supposed to be with his girlfriend tonight? She liked Momoi. The long-limbed and lithe redhead with a bubbly personality was a perfect match for him. Something terrible must have happened. To make up for it, she'll share her ice cream and what was left of the wine.

"When will you be here?"

"I'm standing on the other side of your door." If he were Haruka—not that Mizuki was expecting him back so soon—this news would have sent her into a panic. The place was a mess, and so was she. Her long light-brown hair looked like a messed up bird's nest. And what little make-up she'd applied that morning was long gone.

But this was Makoto.

It was sad to admit, but he'd seen her looking worse. Much worse. So, now, she flung open the door, feeling only mildly embarrassed by what her hair was doing, by the mac-and-cheese stains on her shirt and her purple-ish lips that made her look like a clown thanks to the wine.

"Hey, Makoto." As usual, his smile made her feel as if seeing her was the highlight of the day.

"Hey, Mizuki." He kissed her forehead as he always did before waving a slim, square box beneath her nose. "I got pizza. Thin crust with extra cheese." Any other time, the aroma of pepperoni and melted mozzarella would have had her salivating. Right now, it only reminded her of how full she felt.

"Thanks, but I already ate."

His gaze took in the stained shirt. The sides of his mouth lifted. Despite the messy appearance, she'd grown into a lovely, bright, funny and creative young woman. But then, he'd always found her lovely and funny, bright and creative.

"I see. What was on today's menu and why?" He knew her way too well.

"Mac and cheese."

"Ah," he nodded wisely. "Comfort food."

She touched an index finger to the tip of her nose. "You got it right."

He smiled in return. Makoto always had a great smile. She'd always thought so. With nice lips in a face that wasn't drop-dead gorgeous but handsome and pleasingly male. Over the years, his cheeks had gotten leaner and more sculptured-looking, but his ready smile kept him from ever looking hard.

"How much did you eat?"

"Way too much."

"Got some left for me?" He glanced in the direction of the stove.

"Yep, sure do." She tapped the box he held. "But what about your pizza?"

He shrugged. "You know pizza. It's even better cold." Then, with the pad of his thumb, he pressed down on her lower lip. "And what about the wine? Did you save me any?"

Mizuki laughed. "There's almost half a bottle," she told him. "Pour me a glass and tell me about your day." He set the pizza box on the kitchen counter and shrugged out of his coat. He was wearing his usual business attire—crisp white shirt and suit. The matching tie, however, was pulled askew.

"Did you come from work?" It was almost eight o' clock.

"Yeah. It's eating up a lot of my spare time lately, too," he sighed, then made himself comfortable on the living room couch. The cat instantly came pouncing on his lap with a sudden source of energy, purring loudly as Makoto gladly showered the feline with attention.

"Sorry to hear that."

She switched on the stove in the kitchen to reheat the mac and cheese, and then poured him a glass of wine. After handing it to him, she dropped heavily into a chair. She looked tired in his eyes. He wanted to go to her, wrap her in his arms. Friends hugged. But he held back. More and more lately, he found himself doing that. He partially blamed Haruka for not being there for her when he should. Sure, he took the trip not for business matters, but to think about the whole proposal—to know for sure if he's _ready_ before he pops the question and gets cold feet.

"So, how does Momoi feel about the long hours you're keeping?" she asked.

"Not happy," he admitted. "We were supposed to go to a restaurant tonight."

"You stood her up?" That wasn't like him. Makoto was the kindest, most considerate man Mizuki knew.

"Actually, when I called to tell her I was running late and we'd have to skip dinner beforehand, she told me to go… Never mind." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Our relationship was falling apart anyway."

Mizuki held a sympathetic expression on her face. "Ooh. Dumped. I'm sorry."

"It was mutual," he muttered, reaching for his wine. "She just said it first."

"Riiiight."

"My heart's not broken, Mizuki. It's not even dented or mildly scratched." He sipped his wine and sighed heavily before squinting. _That's not right, is it?_ He thought to himself. _I should feel… a little sad, shouldn't I? _He studied his wine a moment before his gaze lifted to hers. "Enough about me," Makoto was saying. He rallied with a smile. "We were going to talk about your day."

Mizuki rose and went to the stove to plate his dinner before bringing it to him. Makoto's eyebrows rose. "Is _that _what I think it is?" He used his fork to point toward the reunion invitation that, somewhere between belting out "Love is a Suicide" and hearing about Makoto's day, Mizuki had forgotten all about it. She shrugged, striving for nonchalance. "Looks like our ten-year reunion is right around the corner."

"I know. My invitation arrived in the mail last week and I'm looking forward to it. You're coming along, right?"

"Without Haru? Are you kidding? He's halfway across the world, probably checking out Niagara Falls or whatever because he _felt_ like it. He's so self-involved," she grumbled. "Well, I _feel_ like skipping out on the reunion." So much for the engagement plans.

"Mizuki, really. Haru is on a business trip. You know that." Makoto said it in that patient way of his that usually served to talk her down from whatever ledge she was on. Not now. Nope.

"So his career is more important than me," she muttered. Damn the wine for the loose lips. Even so, she took another sip from her glass while she waited for Makoto's well-reasoned response. It didn't come.

"So you're not going," he said.

"I'd rather drown myself like a rat than to step foot on school property without Haru…"

"I'd rather like the idea of seeing the old school again, and maybe spend some time at the pool with old friends." Makoto laughed.

Her gaze narrowed. "So you're going? I mean, you're Haru's best friend." Actually, he hadn't planned to attend until just now. Mizuki needed to go. But he couldn't, wouldn't, send her off alone.

"Sure. Why not?" he said. Her lips turned down in a frown. He had to be crazy, but he found those lips incredibly sexy. And that was his problem. And the reason why women like Momoi never lasted for long. They couldn't measure up to Mizuki.

"Come on," he smiled teasingly. "You and Kou-chan got a lot to talk about, surely."

"Yeah, right." She snorts once more. "I'm twenty-eight years old, working part-time at a bar, living in my parent's house with my brother and an old, grumpy cat. I'm living the life."

Makoto sighed. "You take good care of everyone."

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Whatever."

He waited a beat before saying, "You deserve a break. Why not go and have fun—then show off to Haru on the phone."

"I do like the sound of gloating." She frowned, apparently realizing what she'd said. Her hands fell to her sides. "How do you do that?"

"What?"

"Talk to me into doing something I absolutely don't want to do?"

"Years of practice," he replied.

"Okay, fine. I'll go."

"Great!"

"But only because I know you'll complain about it forever if I don't." She ended on a long-suffering sigh. Makoto knew she was grateful for the push.

"You'll thank me someday," he said, then started in again on the mac and cheese. It was good, nearly as mouthwatering as Mizuki's pout. Just as he blotted his mouth with a napkin, she said, "I can't wait to see how Nagisa and Rei turned out. Incredibly wealthy and gorgeous, probably." Her expression brightened. "Do you think Rin will be there? He never went to our school, but maybe he'll show up with Kou. That's always a possibility."

Makoto ignored the twinge in his chest. He always felt it when Mizuki talked about other guys. In fact, one of the things Momoi flung in his face during their breakup was what she termed his "unhealthy attachment to _that woman_." She wasn't the first girlfriend to mention it. He was attached to Mizuki. How could he not be?

They'd been close friends since before she started dating his best friend. They'd been there for one another through high school and now, the better part of their was a constant element in his life.

"Now I'm all excited!" Mizuki grinned from ear to ear.

"Let's hope he shows up then." Even to his ears, the words came out sounding hollow. "It'll be a blast," he drawled. She nodded, oblivious to his sarcasm. He cleared his throat and shifted the conversation in a new direction. "So I'll pick you up then?"

Her smile was overly bright now. "It's a date!"

She was just joking, obviously. She forgot that Makoto took her very seriously most of the time.


End file.
